


Starship in a Bottle

by The_Winter_Straw



Series: Free Fic Raffle Prizes [6]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Canon Side Pairings, F/M, Family Drama, Fluff, Old flames reunited, Post-Star Trek Beyond, Romance, original character vulcans, references to multiple trek series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24061606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Winter_Straw/pseuds/The_Winter_Straw
Summary: Life is fragile. Life is beautiful. Life can be smashed to pieces in the blink of an eye.Such smashing does not require that what is left will not still be fragile and beautiful itself.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Reader
Series: Free Fic Raffle Prizes [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1687426
Kudos: 24





	Starship in a Bottle

**Author's Note:**

> Occasionally for this little project, I will be given a stunningly simple request. I was asked to write a reader-insert romance for the _Star Trek_ (Kelvin Universe) character of my choice. This might actually work to the requester's advantage. I went way overboard with this one. After seeing the first two Kelvin Universe movies, I did write a few _Trek_ fics...but this was the first one I wrote since watching every single episode available. Writing this and cramming in as many references as I could was an absolute blast!
> 
> **Winner January 2020:** Captain Batman Lecter/punklefish

“This is a disaster!” 

Your voice, shrill as it had ever been, echoed throughout the empty workstation. Thankfully there weren’t many people loitering there to view what remained of the U.S.S. _Franklin_ , because you sounded quite deranged. But why should you not? What floated in the spacedock, just beyond the four inch thick transparent aluminum, could be described as nothing _but_ a disaster. 

“I fail to see the logic in shouting the obvious,” said your companion. He was dark-haired and dark-skinned, with pointy ears and a placid demeanor. “If there was not a disaster to fix, you would not have been called out to Starbase Yorktown to begin with. 

You shot Tanir a dirty look. Of course, what with him being Vulcan, he merely returned your venom with a blank stare. 

“This is _not_ the _Enterprise_ ,” you said. 

“No. I should think the ship’s registry makes that clear.” 

“We were called away from Utopia Planitia to refit the _Enterprise_.” 

“Another accurate statement. Three in a row, Commander. Just one more, and you’ll reach a new record.” 

_Vulcans_. You admired Tanir. Really, you did. Sometimes, though, you wished your closest friend and coworker were an Andorian or a Tellarite, at least so you could find a little _variety_ in the abuse you so constantly endured by those among your staff. 

“How can you be so calm about this?” you asked. “You gave up shore leave on New Vulcan for the opportunity to work on this _one_ ship, and it’s not even the ship we were led to believe it would be!” 

“Perhaps there is a good reason for the switch. I see a group approaching. Let us hope they will provide us with an explanation.” 

You spotted the flash of the opening door reflected in the aluminum yourself, and turned to greet the coming party. Pissed as you were to discover that you’d been lured across the quadrant on false pretenses, you knew better than to yell at Commodore Paris over it. Tanir would never let you live down such bad behavior. 

It was _not_ the commodore headed over to greet you, however. It was instead a group of four: a short, wiry man in the same red uniform as yours, with dark hair and pale skin; a woman with stark white hair and skin, whose species you could not identify; a tall, pale Vulcan in Science Blue, and— 

“You!” 

You and Jim Kirk recognized each other at the exact same moment. _His_ Vulcan raised a single dark brow at the sudden chorus. 

“What are _you_ doing here?” Jim demanded. 

“Fixing your ship,” you answered coolly. 

“Like hell you are. I’m not letting you get anywhere _near_ my ship!” 

“What do you mean, _your_ ship? Did _you_ put this hunk of junk here so I couldn’t even _see_ the _Enterprise_?” 

“Be careful what you call a piece of junk. That 'junk' is my home!” said the woman. She looked ready to lunge at you over the insult, but Jim’s engineer held her back with a hand to her shoulder. 

“Easy there, Jayla. She has no way of knowing that,” said the engineer. 

“Perhaps, then, she should learn to hold her tongue.” 

“An excellent proposition,” said Jim. “I don’t know what _she’s_ doing here anyway. Commodore Paris said the best from Utopia Planitia was being brought in for the refit.” 

“Forgive me for speaking out of turn, Captain, but Commander [L Name] _is_ the best Utopia Planitia has to offer. _That_ is why she is here,” Tanir said. 

You would have offered him thanks right then, but knew doing so would likely only prompt him to say something derogatory. 

Such praise—coming from the mouth of a race not often known to lie—seemed to draw Jim up short. Then he said one word: “No.” 

“No?” Tanir echoed curiously. 

“No. _You_ can work on the ship. I don’t care who else does. Just not _her_.” 

“Captain,” said the other Vulcan, “to dismiss Commander [L Name] would be a grievous error. Only she can do what you want done for the ship in the time frame required of her. If you had read her research into—” 

“The point, Spock!” 

Spock blinked before smoothly continuing, “It would be foolish to allow your personal feelings to get in the way of allowing someone of her talents to prepare the new _Enterprise_. 

Scowling, Jim looked from Spock’s face, to Tanir’s, to yours. 

“The sooner we complete the job, the sooner you can continue your mission. Unless you are attempting this delay because you would prefer _not_ to go on with your assignment?” said Tanir. 

Jim did not look happy about it, but struggling under the pressure of _two_ Vulcans at once was something you understood well was difficult not to cave under. 

“Fine!” he snapped at last, spinning on his heel. “But I want _regular_ updates on your progress.” 

He offered no farewell before leaving the room. Spock watched him go before turning his attention to you and Tanir. 

“I will allow Jayla and Mr. Scott to explain the assignment. Thank you for coming out to work on this for us. Mr. Tanir. Commander [L Name]. Live long and prosper.” 

You knew Tanir well enough to know that his and Spock’s exchange of the Vulcan Salute thrilled him more than he let on. Spock was a big name among the remaining Vulcans—especially since the other Spock's passing—and you wondered if the chance of meeting him had been part of the allure of Yorktown for Tanir to begin with. Not that you had any room to needle your engineer about his hero worship. Spock’s name drop of the _Enterprise_ ’s engineer had you seeing stars yourself. 

Mr. Scott was too busy shaking his head to notice your staring, thankfully. “Wonder what’s got into the captain. I haven’t seen him this upset since the incident with Kahn.” 

“Mr. Scott. As in _Montgomery_ Scott?” you asked in awe. Well, making sure of that was easier than explaining why Jim was acting as though an exocomp had crawled up his butt. 

“Yes?” Mr. Scott said. 

“I can’t believe I’m meeting you! After Admiral Archer got you exiled I thought I’d never get the chance!” Forget the screaming from earlier; your squealing over meeting this man made you sound _far_ more deranged. “I’ve kept up with _all_ your research. The transwarp beaming technique—I’ve never seen anything like it.” 

“I appreciate you saying that. You’ve done a lot of impressive stuff yourself. I particularly found the—” 

“Montgomery Scottie. Is there a reason you asked me to come along with you to see my home?” Jaylah interrupted. 

Mr. Scott smiled. “Oh. Right. Best we move onto the instructions.” 

“That _would_ be ideal. We are in something of a time crunch as it is,” said Tanir. 

“Well, you already know the basics.” Mr. Scott gestured at the ship floating nearby. “We need a new _Enterprise_.” 

You and Tanir glanced at one another. 

“Okay,” you said slowly. “Where _is_ the _Enterprise_?” 

“Gone,” said Jaylah. 

“Aye. It sort of got…blasted into a million tiny smithereens out in deep space,” Mr. Scott admitted. 

“Wh—” Just like Jaylah before, you required holding back to prevent yourself from lunging at him. 

Tanir did so as discreetly as he could. “We were not informed that this was the case. Of course we will do our best to provide a new ship that meets your qualifications,” he said, “but why is the U.S.S. _Franklin_ here in the _Enterprise_ ’s stead?” 

“Well, that old ship _did_ do us a lot of favors. What we were hoping was, with your permission of course,” Mr. Scott said to Jaylah, “that you could _use_ some of _this_ ship to build the new one.” 

Her amber eyes lit up. “So it will get to fly again?” 

“That’s what we hope.” 

“That would be _wonderful_ Montgomery Scottie. Please do it. Then, once I’m done at the Academy, I can come home again.” 

Was anyone going to ask _you_ how you felt about this task? No. Of course not. Jaylah’s acceptance was enough apparently, even though she wouldn’t have anything to do with the construction or deconstruction of _either_ ship. After several seconds of her and Mr. Scott beaming over their plan, the latter held his hand out toward you. 

“We’ll leave it to you, then,” he said. 

Tanir prevented you from saying what you were thinking by stepping forward to shake Mr. Scott’s hand himself. “We will ensure your captain is regularly updated, as he requested.” 

You couldn’t bring yourself to _not_ shake Mr. Scott’s hand yourself, no matter how upset you were about his and Jim’s cockamamie plan to combine a brand new ship with elements of a dinosaur from the Federation’s birth. He and Jaylah left immediately after. Before she left, she called out a cheerful “goodbye!” as though she _hadn’t_ just given permission for you to do the impossible. 

“If I may say so, you handled that remarkably well,” Tanir observed. 

You didn’t answer. There wasn’t enough time to list all the reasons he was wrong. Commodore Paris wanted this refit done impossibly quickly, and now you had even _more_ work ahead of you than originally anticipated. Trying to put Jim out of your mind (never an easy task), you went to your station to begin your designs. 

******

Days and nights passed quickly in the secluded silence of your workshop. Things did not proceed as planned. Blueprint after blueprint found itself tossed unceremoniously into the database trash bin; you frequently wished that you could delete yourself along with it. Normally you didn't have to spend the better part of week on nothing but a basic outline...but normally you already had access to what was required for a ship. Jim always had to make things difficult, didn't he? All the parts for a new _Constitution_ -class could be put together easily. That just wasn't good enough for him; he had to have some Frankenstein's monster of a ship that included _Freedom_ -class parts, too, and _those_ hadn't been in use for ages. _Maybe_ a ship remained in a junkyard somewhere, but you doubted it. 

The _Franklin_ messed things up for its own stripping, too. Spacedocks just weren't made with old ships like that in mind, meaning Tanir had to supervise a staff to manually pull the antique apart. Since you still didn't know just _how_ you were going to incorporate the old ship into the new, you needed everything as intact as possible. What had begun as a quick assignment you'd been eager to tackle was turning into an endless slog you'd just as soon pass to one of the Andorians always vying for your position. 

"This is ridiculous!" you said, as your seventh simulation for the day ended with the new _Enterprise_ shaking itself into pieces less than a light-year away from its starting point. 

"Mom." 

A hand tugged at the sleeve of your uniform. Slowly, you lifted your head from where it had fallen onto your arms to see a boy, grinning and muss-haired, gazing at you through his huge blue eyes. 

"What is it, Emmett?" you asked. "Need help on a homework problem?" 

"No. I finished that an hour ago. Are we going to eat soon?" 

Poor Emmett. Just twelve years old and already he knew better than to interrupt you at work, even when you were hours past a reasonable quitting time and he'd likely been sitting there doing extra homework just to pass the time. You pressed a guilty kiss to the skin just beneath his thick, brown hair. 

"Sorry, baby. I got caught up again, didn't I?" He nodded. "How about I give you some credits and you go get us something you like for dinner? As soon as you get back, I'll quit, and we'll go home to eat." 

"Okay!" 

Any boy his age would be eager to run through the streets of the Yorktown unsupervised. You felt a little bad about letting him do so, but what harm could he get into? It was still a Federation starbase. Once you handed over the credits, Emmett shot off like a phaser beam toward the exit. Well, he'd been cooped up in there with you for most of the evening. Even worse, Tanir had left to give Jim the update he demanded, leaving your son without his favorite person in the galaxy to distract him. 

Knowing that Emmett wouldn't take long to return with food, you went back to your station. Your frustration level rose with every failed simulation. Tanir could remind you how proud you'd be of the work once you finished as much as he wanted; it didn't prevent you from resenting just how much of a miracle Mr. Scott and Jaylah and Jim were asking you to perform—especially since the last clearly didn't think you had it in you. 

"Excuse me, Commander." 

"Think of the devil," you said, still poking around at the new blank screen. "Not that your resemblance to the devil is all that extreme. How'd the meeting go? Did Jim convince you that you could do a better job than me yet?" 

"No. But I tried." 

Thank goodness that you'd sent your son away, because your reaction to hearing Jim's voice in your workspace was to let out a colorful Tellarite swear—among other reasons you were relieved Emmett was gone, of course. Scowling, you turned on your stool to face the door, where, sure enough, Tanir stood with Jim beside him. 

"He refused to take the update from me, on the grounds that I am not the one with most immediate knowledge of how the refit fares," Tanir said. 

"Oh, so now you're not even going to let my _staff_ do their jobs? Don't you have better things to do than harass me in person?" you demanded of Jim. 

"Not until you fix my ship," he said. 

To emphasize that he had no intention of leaving without getting what he'd come for, he pulled out the stool on the other side of your table and plopped right into it. His eyes focused directly on yours. You could feel yourself falling into them, head over heels... 

"Commander." 

Tanir saved you from embarrassing yourself further with his interruption. Startled, you cleared your throat and turned back to him. Your cheeks burned. Hopefully keeping your face directed away from Jim's would prevent him from noticing. 

"Yes, Mr. Tanir?" you asked. 

"I believe that when I left you to give Captain Kirk an update, you had company. May I inquire as to where your company went?" 

You swore again, this time in Andorian. "I don't have time to deal with you right now," you shot at Jim, already bustling to get your things together so you could leave. 

"That is all right, Commander. You speak with the captain. He has made it quite clear that he will not receive the information from anyone else. _I_ will ensure that your guest makes it to their quarters safely." 

When you nodded, it was very reluctantly. Staying to speak with Jim was _not_ what you considered an ideal situation. Better than the one Tanir had barely prevented, however. Emmett would be returning with dinner any minute. 

"Then, Captain Kirk, I bid you farewell." 

Tanir did _not_ suggest that Jim live well _or_ prosper before he left. His obvious frustration at not being allowed to do his job distracted you effectively enough that you almost forgot to shout, "Tell him I'll be there right away! Just as soon as I'm done with this last _problem_!" 

One wave of the hand without turning told you Tanir heard. You could breathe again knowing that Emmett would not come running in at the most inopportune time available. Perhaps bringing him along with you to Yorktown had been a mistake. After all, you _had_ been well aware Jim would be there, too, long before you boarded your shuttle there. 

"Is that really what you think of me?" 

Jim, of course, had not left with Tanir. He remained precisely where you'd left him: as a continuous pain in your ass. The way his lips curled into a sardonic smile caused a long-buried, quavering feeling to unfurl inside your stomach. Thirty looked good on him. Or was that the Star Fleet uniform? Before you could give this disturbing thought the attention it deserved, the man lifted himself from his stool just enough to reach forward and tap you on the forehead. 

"Hey. Earth to [Name]. You still in there?" 

Perhaps you didn't need to swat his hand away so forcefully. Perhaps you did. It was all up to interpretation, and your interpretation was that Jim had a lot of nerve touching you like that after all these years. 

"Yes, Jim, I'm still here," you said, " _and_ I'm still wondering why you sent away my second in command when he is perfectly capable of giving you the information you want. Which is why, _yes_ , I think you're a problem." 

"Well, that should be nothing new. I've always been a bit of a problem, haven't I?" 

"Do you have to look so pleased with yourself? Being captain of a starship hasn't changed you one bit." 

"Because Star Fleet's done such a perfect job at ironing out all _your_ imperfections." 

"What are you doing here?" you asked. "I really have somewhere to be." 

"Got a date?" 

"Yes. I do." 

One blink set his face to a completely foreign blank mask. "Oh. Well, I guess I shouldn't keep you then." 

"That would be...nice." It would—but that didn't stop your words from coming out confused. All this hassle for him to let you go just like that? 

"Right. So, how are things going for the ship? Are you making progress?" 

"We're making progress with the disassembly of the U.S.S. _Franklin_ ," you allowed. 

"But how's the _Enterprise_?" 

Again, all of this was something that Tanir could have explained to him—or Mr. Scott or Jaylah, both of whom spent most mornings observing your work. "That's a little more complicated." 

Jim scoffed. 

"Something funny?" 

"No. Nothing's funny at all. I just knew I shouldn't have let you continue the work." 

"Because I haven't been able to combine two ships from vastly different eras in a matter of four days?" 

Shaking his head, he got up. "No. Because you can't see things through. You never have, and you never will." 

"That's not true!" 

Why did it matter to you? What James Tiberius Kirk thought of you hadn't mattered to you since you were sixteen years old. Just because he was handsome—just because he was successful—just because he'd managed to convince an entire crew that he was something special didn't mean that you, too, needed to concern yourself with your reputation in his eyes. 

But if any of that were true, why did it hurt so much when he looked back just long enough to say, "You've never seen anything through for me"? 

******

Trust Jim to barge back into things the minute you made a lick of progress on his ship. You had not heard from him _once_ in the two weeks since he'd accused you of having no ability to follow through. Mr. Scott probably relayed any relevant information to him after his and Jaylah's daily visits, and not seeing Jim suited you just fine. Having to listen to more of his smug, veiled references to your shared past did nothing to help your already sky-high stress levels. You had better ways to spend your free time than hashing out old arguments with your ex. 

First dinner, now homework. What was the man going to pull you away from next? Your frustration must have shown plain on your face as Yorktown's artificial sunset beamed across it. All manner of sentient beings hastily stepped out of your way, like you were a Klingon on a warpath. If only such an expression could cow _Jim_ into leaving you alone—but you already knew from experience your anger would only delight him. He obviously _wanted_ you angry, or else he wouldn't have insisted on a personal visit when he could just as easily have gone straight to your lab himself. 

When you arrived at his quarters, no sounds issued from within. A parade of unwanted memories flashed through your eye. You shook your head to clear it of them. No, if Jim were in bed with an Orion or a Caitian or a Kelpien, there would have been _a lot_ more noise. It was with great trepidation all the same that you pressed the buzzer beside the silver door. 

"Enter," called a familiar voice. 

This did not exactly _unclench_ the muscles in your stomach. Terrified of what you might see in the room beyond, you slapped a hand over your eyes before you stepped over the threshold. 

"Is there a reason you've covered your eyes like that?" asked a new voice, this one wholly unknown and with a strong Southern accent. More surprisingly, the voice belonged to a man. 

Removing your hand revealed a completely normal sitting area. It matched the one in your own quarters, all the way down to the low glass coffee table and a sleek black couch. Two men sat on the last: Jim and an older white man with thick brown hair and eyebrows to match. 

"Oh, hello," you said, a little awkwardly. "I didn't realize Jim would have company." 

"But you clearly expected him to. Don't worry. All the times I've seen him naked have been purely medical in nature." 

"Dr. McCoy here is my ship's doctor," Jim explained. 

"Much to my everlasting chagrin," said Dr. McCoy. 

"Bones, this is Commander [F Name] [L Name]. She's...overseeing the building of the new _Enterprise_." 

"Please to meet you." He grasped your hand briefly, stood, and looked right at Jim. "Well, seeing as you have a visitor much prettier than I am, I think I'll take my leave. Goodnight, Jim. Commander." 

Neither of you protested his going. Jim would probably have insisted on you giving your update in front of both of them if Dr. McCoy didn't vacate the premises himself. Normally you wouldn't have minded an audience, but considering what aspersions Jim would probably make on your work, you'd have preferred to present your ideas alone. Even after Dr. McCoy exited, though, Jim didn't say anything. Not for a long time. 

"How was your date?" he asked at last. 

Needless to say, you had not expected that question. "What are you talking about?" 

"Your date. The one you said you had last time you and I talked. How'd it go?" 

"Oh! Oh, that." Not the kind of date he thought it was, but all the better for you. "It went fine. Thank you for asking." 

Again, Jim said nothing. His eyes wandered away from your face. You held your breath. What on earth was going on in that man's head? This was a puzzle you didn't have the time to ponder. There was a prepubescent boy eagerly awaiting your return. Whatever was bothering Jim, he would have to work through it on his own. 

"Look, are we going to get started on the Q and A or what?" you asked. 

He answered with a question of his own: "Do you want to take a walk?" 

"A walk?" 

"Yeah. A walk. I can't stand sitting in here one more minute. Can you give me your update while we walk instead?" 

Well, that _did_ sound a little more like the Jim you knew. Iowa didn't provide a lot in the way of distraction for a maladjusted guy like him, so there had been plenty of road trips (mostly of the unsupervised variety) made just to occupy him. His return to something resembling normalcy forced your hand. A single nod indicted your acquiescence. He stood, then motioned for you follow him back out onto the walk. All of the artificial sunlight had vanished by then, leaving the both of you underneath a transparent roof full of unfamiliar stars. 

Not a word passed between you as you walked along. A few people recognized Jim and called out greetings to him. Each of these he acknowledged with a smile and a quiet "hello." To you he said nothing at all. It occurred to you that you would have to be the one to begin if you wanted to get home to your quarters anytime soon. 

"I'm sure Mr. Scott told you we've finally got a working model of the new ship," you said. Jim continued walking without so much as glancing at you. "We're not going to be able to use much of the _Franklin_. A few of her noncritical systems can be installed—you can keep the music player, for instance—but I'm afraid that, other than that, the best we can do is melt down the _Franklin_ 's hull and combine what's left with the alloy for the new _Enterprise_." 

Still his eyes did not move toward you. They moved downward to his boots instead. This forced you to look at him in profile longer than you would have liked. There really wasn't any angle he wasn't beautiful from, which wasn't fair. All those stunts you'd pulled together as kids should have aged him just as quickly as they had you. 

At last, Jim chuckled. "I bet Jaylah _loved_ hearing that you want to melt down her home." 

"She didn't. But she's an exceptionally smart woman. I let her tinker around with my program for a bit, and she agrees that this is the only way we can properly integrate two ships of such vastly different time periods. Now Jaylah's just glad we're not sending the _Franklin_ to a junkyard somewhere she'll never see _any_ of it again." 

You'd reached a swell in the pathway. Below, on another tier of the tangle of paths that made up the station, sat a fountain spewing silvery wet sparks into the air. Here Jim stopped, pulled away from the crowd, and leaned forward against the metal railing. Was he even listening to you? He never really had, but why ask for an update that night of all nights if he didn't want to hear it? 

"Jim, if I'm boring you, we can always do this another time." 

"Hm? What? No. No, sorry." He took a deep breath, fixing you once more with his beautiful eyes as you came to stand beside him. "Actually, that's what I wanted to tell you." 

"You wanted to tell me you don't care where we are in the process of building your ship?" 

"No. I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. For what I said the other day, about you not having any follow through. Clearly that's not true. I was thinking about something that happened, what? Thirteen years ago? I was out of line." 

All you did was stare at him—not only because he remained just as handsome as he had been those thirteen years ago (maybe even more so), but also because of what he was saying. An _apology_? Coming out of _his_ mouth? 

"I really surprised with that one, didn't I?" He looked delighted with himself. 

"Shut up," you said. "I've just never heard you say that you're sorry to anyone, except _maybe_ George." 

"We've both done some growing since we last saw each other, huh? Well, maybe you didn't need the growing. You always knew what you were doing." 

"I was sixteen and scared. I still had a lot of growing up to do myself." 

"Still, you made the right choice. We wouldn't be the people we are today if you hadn't, and I like who I am a hell of a lot more than who I was. So, thank you. Maybe it's time to let bygones be bygones." 

Every inch of your being screamed for you not to shake the hand he offered you. Jim was not above deceit or temper—not to mention that he was completely wrong about everything. But in the end, you _did_ take his hand and say: 

"I'd like that. Does this mean I can finish my work on the _Enterprise_ without further interference?" 

"Yeah, yeah. Spock was right all along. Like usual," Jim said with a rueful grin. 

"About what?" 

"About how I shouldn't let personal feelings interfere with the plans for our ship." 

Together, you both fell silent once more. It was _almost_ a comfortable silence—like the kind you used to spend together in rural Iowa, gazing up at different stars and doing your best not to think about what awaited either of you when you finally sneaked back to your respective homes. Almost. Unfortunately, all those years without Jim there stretched between you too loudly to allow you much comfort. 

"Does he know?" you asked. "Mr. Spock?" 

Jim shook his head. "No. I haven't told a soul. You?" 

"No, I—" 

"Mom!" 

One word. One word was all it took to set ice down your spine. One word was all it took to get you spinning away from your view of the fountain. One word had Jim looking over to see the exact same thing you did at the exact same time: Emmett, beaming, racing through the throng of evening pedestrians and right toward you. 

"This is a nightmare," you murmured. 

Why was Emmett outside at this time of night? Where was Tanir? Yet Emmett threw his arms around you in a snug embrace far too solidly to be some terrible dream. He nearly knocked the wind out of you with his enthusiasm. 

"I finished my homework, Mom! You said that once I did we could go get some ice cream. Remember? You promised! And you left _ages_ ago so I had to come looking for you, or by the time you got home you'd probably tell me it was too late for dessert." 

Very, very slowly, you lifted your head to look over at Jim. Standing so close to each other, Emmett and Jim's resemblance was unmistakable: same eyes; same hair; hell, they even had the same jawline. Your mind raced to find some excuse, some lie that Jim might swallow— 

But it was too late. The moment your eyes met, Jim turned around and walked away. 

******

The following morning brought with it one of the worst headaches you had suffered since early adolescence. Any amount of synthetic sunlight felt like a phaser set to kill blasting through your frontal lobe. Your nausea was somehow worse. Getting Emmett out of bed, fed, and ready for his classes after your night of binge drinking took Herculean effort on your part. You had _no_ intention of going to work that day. As soon as your son was out the door, you told the computer to dim every window, and then settled miserably onto your couch. 

Work found you anyway—or rather Tanir did. What was the difference? You did not answer the shriek of the buzzer, but he just came right inside anyway. 

"Commander. May I inquire as to why you have chosen to remain on your sofa instead of coming into work on the _Enterprise_?" 

"Because I'm hungover," you groaned. "What does it _look_ like?" 

"A hangover is no excuse to shirk your duties. You knew very well that you had an obligation in the morning when you chose to drink yourself into a stupor." 

"The only thing happening today is the framework going up. It's a standard _Excelsior_ -class design. Surely you're intelligent enough to oversee that on your own for a day." 

"My leadership capabilities are hardly relevant. What concerns me is that you believe hiding in your quarters and feeling sorry for yourself is a good solution to your problem." 

Tanir saying something like that twisted the bat'leth further into your gut. He had been the one to find you in the Yorktown bar, trying to convince the reluctant Bolian bartender to give you just one more glass of Saurian Brandy. You didn't _think_ you'd revealed the cause of your bad decision making to Tanir during the course of his getting you to your quarters safely, but surely that was the only way he would know about it. “It.” Your son. Your son and his prodigal father. Would Jim really tell anyone else? When would he have had the time? 

You could not very well leave the room in a huff in your present condition; the pounding in your head prevented you from so much as rolling over on the couch. To avoid having to look at Tanir, you closed your eyes. He didn't take the hint, of course. Hints flew well over the head of _most_ Vulcans. 

"Emmett is Captain Kirk's son, is he not?" he asked. 

You nodded weakly. 

"You never told either of them?" 

Your eyes opened only to allow you to glare at him. "They didn't _need_ to know. If _you_ hadn't let Emmett run off last night after you helped him with his essay on the history of Human-Vulcan relations, no one else would know at all." 

"I am not a babysitter." 

You flinched—not at the way his voice sliced through your head, but because he was _right_. Tanir usually was, but on this matter he was more right than ever, and the vaguely hurt twinge in his words was deserved. If you had not been so afraid that doing as much would _literally_ have caused your skull to split in two, you would have started crying right then and there. 

"What I _am_ is your coworker," Tanir went on, "and your friend. And as your friend, I must inform you how monumentally foolish it was to bring your son here when you knew his father would be here as well. In fact, it was _uncharacteristically_ foolish of you. I suspect you only did so because you _wanted_ Captain Kirk to discover the truth." 

"After _thirteen years_ , you _really_ think I'd want to tell Jim about his son? I've worked too hard to build a decent life for myself and Emmett to just throw that all a way. _Jim's_ worked too hard to throw it all away!" 

"I do not suggest you made the decision consciously, merely that you might consider that it _was_ your choice going forward. This discovery might do him more good than harm." 

Which "he" Tanir referred to—Jim or Emmett—you never got the chance to ask. The noise of the front door sliding open (without so much as a buzzer to announce the newcomer) left you and him staring at each for a split second before Jim himself stalked into the room. 

"Captain," said Tanir, "to what do we owe the—" 

"How. Dare you," Jim said. 

He had eyes only for you. So great was the intensity of his gaze that you couldn't be sure he even realized that Tanir had tried to greet him. What startled you more was that Jim _wasn't_ drunk. He looked as though he'd spent most of the night pacing and pulling at his hair, but he definitely hadn't gone on the bender you had. 

When you made no attempt to answer him, Jim spoke again: 

"You told me you weren't even going to have him." 

"I told you what you wanted to hear," you said. 

"Excuse me," Tanir interjected, but this time, Jim _did_ notice him. 

He pointed right at Tanir's chest. "If you _want_ to stick around and listen to this, I'm not going to make you leave, but I'd appreciate it if you kept any logic-related remarks to yourself." 

Both of Tanir's dark eyebrows rose, then he looked to you as though for permission. Perhaps he worried what Jim—a captain well-known for using old-fashioned fisticuffs more often than not—might do if left alone with you. You motioned with your head toward the door, despite the pain doing so caused you. Jim would not strike you physically. He'd had occasion to before and never had. 

"Then I shall leave. Commander, I will ensure things go as planned today, but I expect you back to work tomorrow. Otherwise I will have to report your continued absence to Utopia Planitia." 

With that, he left. Not a single word passed between you or Jim until both of you could be sure that Tanir wouldn't turn right back. 

"That's a load of shit, [Name]." 

Every sentence he had spoken remained at the same volume, though his voice quavered enough to make his feelings clear. 

With great effort, you heaved yourself into a seated position. "Which bit?" 

"I told you that I'd take care of you. I _told_ you that I'd be there for my kid." 

"And how were you planning to do that, Jim?" 

" _What_?" 

"How were you planning to 'take care' of me? You weren't going anywhere. You didn't have any plans. Hell, you didn't even have a _job_. All you wanted was to keep making trouble in Iowa until one of your stunts got you killed." 

"I...I would have figured something out," he insisted. 

"Sure, you would. Meanwhile, what was _I_ supposed to do? Do you think for one second _my_ family would have helped us out? Or _yours_?" 

Your vision pulsed around the edges as your tone grow higher pitched. Through this, you could see Jim's wide-eyed, red face. He could be as angry as he wanted to, but after all these years, you were finally telling the truth. If he hadn't wanted to hear it, he should have just minded his own business until he could get back on the _Enterprise_ and fly right out of your life again. 

"That's not fair," he said. "I got this far, didn't I?" 

"You didn't start at Starfleet Academy until after I'd already graduated. And you were mad at me for signing up to go to begin with!" 

"Because you _left_ me!" At last, Jim's voice rose to meet yours, and as it did, it cracked. "You left me, and there was _nothing_ that mattered anymore once you were gone. And now I find out you took my son from me, too?" 

With a jolt, you realized his eyes were wet. "You said last night that I made the right choice." 

"That was when I thought you had an abortion." 

"I was going to. I just...couldn't do it in the end." 

"So you decided that you wanted to be mother, but you didn't give _me_ the opportunity to be a father." 

"This is _insane_. We wanted different things!" Your shout caused your stomach to flip over inside you, but you swallowed away the nausea. "I couldn't stay in Iowa another month, let alone as long as it would take to raise a child. You weren't going to leave. Something had to give, and it was easier for you to go on thinking I took care of the problem." 

"That wasn't your call to make." 

"If I hadn't told you I wasn't going to have Emmett, we wouldn't be the people we are today. You _like_ who are you are today," you reminded him. "Isn't that reason enough for me to do what I did?" 

"Emmett," Jim repeated in a whisper. "His name is Emmett." 

You didn't like his tone one bit. "Jim," you began, but he had already leaped toward the door. 

"I'm going to talk to him." 

"Like hell you are!" 

"Whose going to stop me? You? You couldn't stop an unhosted Trill symbiont right now." 

The churning in your stomach surged in strength; Jim's shadowed outline seemed to blur around the edges. He could do it. He could run off this very instant, find Emmett, tell him _everything_. All your careful planning, all those difficulties endured as a single parent at the Academy, could come to ruin in the blink of an eye. 

"I didn't tell _him_ either," you said, and there was a pleading edge to your words that you couldn't entirely quash. 

Horror washed over his features. _That_ was what bothered him the most out of all of this? That you hadn't breathed a word to your son over who his father was? Not that it mattered. If that knowledge prevented Jim from seeking him out, so much the better. Did it, though? You couldn't tell. He swallowed, opened his mouth, then closed it again to walk out the door. As soon as you were alone, the nausea overcame you. Your shaking legs forced you to your feet...but too late to avoid vomiting all over your feet and the carpet. 

Just one more stellar moment in this stellar life you'd just claimed was for the best. 

******

Four weeks later, the newest _Enterprise_ floated complete inside the spacedock. It had a taken a lot of staff doing a lot of work to get it ready—countless hours of testing, tweaking, and transporter modifications—but there she was: gleaming and gorgeous, ready to set off for the first time (technically) into the vast frontier. You and Emmett stood together in your cleared-out laboratory. There was a party going on inside the ship beyond the transparent aluminum. Soon, someone would eject a bottle of champagne at just the right trajectory for it to break against the ship's oddly-colored hull. It wouldn't be long after that the _Enterprise_ and all her staff would be gone again, far out of the reach of anyone on Utopia Planitia. 

Emmett stared straight ahead. He refused to look at you. That was nothing new, but that didn't mean you weren't hurt by his behavior. His growing arms hung stiff at his sides, making him look all the more awkward in the nice clothes that he had donned for the occasion. 

"Emmett," you said. 

"What?" 

"It's time to go." 

When he snapped his attention to you, his jaw was set. You'd seen that look a thousand times on a face that did not belong to him. Another flip of the stomach had you wondering if you were making the right call here. It had been four months. Before that, it had been thirteen years. Did anyone have the right to cause such an upheaval after so much time had passed? 

You would lose your nerve standing around like that—your nerve, and your designated transporter time. One sweeping motion of your arm got Emmett moving. Poor kid. Though he still refused to look at you, you could see him trembling. His skin (the color of which he had inherited from you, if nothing else) took on an ashy cast as he stepped onto the waiting pad. If you could have done something to comfort him, you would have. Boys his age were not into hugs, you were learning, and boys his age that were angry with their mothers even less so. 

"Two to beam up, _Enterprise_ ," you said. 

"Aye, I got you," Mr. Scott's voice said over the audio connection. "We'll be seeing you soon." 

The lab dissolved before your eyes into a glittering stream of silver and white. Your body—or rather lack thereof—prickled like someone was rolling a cactus from the bottoms of your feet all the way up to your hairline. Then the worst part came: the darkness of non-existence. After that, sensation returned to you all at once. The prickling stopped and sight returned. You and your son stood together in an entirely different room, on an entirely different transporter. Mr. Scott came around the monitoring station with a grin. 

"See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked. 

"I wouldn't have agreed to get on it if you weren't the one that installed this thing," you said breathlessly. 

"Well, Chekov helped. But he's needed on the bridge, so I'll do in a pinch when someone wants over. Are you here for the party?" 

"I was actually hoping to see Jim. Would that be all right?" 

Mr. Scott's smile faded a little. Then his eyes went right to Emmett. "I don't see why not. Hello," he added to him. "I'm Montgomery Scott. And you are?" 

"Emmett [L Name]." At least he wasn't so mad at you that he had forgotten his manners. He gave Mr. Scott's hand a firm shake before looking at you for direction. 

“Good to meet you. Your mother speaks very highly of you. So does Mr. Tanir." 

"Thank you, sir." 

"Turbolift's down at the end of the corridor. Just tell it you want the bridge and it will take you right there. Well!" He laughed. "Why am I telling _you_ this? You built the damn thing!" 

You offered your thanks as well. Then you and Emmett left the room. Color had crept up the back of his neck at Mr. Scott's compliment, but it did not seem to have thawed him at all toward you. The quiet that sat between the both of you for the duration of the lift ride was as icy as one of Neptune's moons. 

This came to a grinding halt the minute the doors opened onto the bridge. A party was in full swing there. So many people were crammed into the room that it was a wonder any of the people carrying trays of drinks and foods of a dozen different cultures could get around them. You looked immediately to the chair in the center...but it was vacant. Heart sinking, you took another look around you, only to this time gain the notice of Tanir, Spock, and a very pretty dark-skinned woman in red. 

"Hello, Commander," Spock said. "It is a pleasure to have you here for the ship's christening. Mr. Tanir informed us you had a prior obligation." 

"That _is_ what she told me," said Tanir. 

"No. What I told you was that I didn't _want_ to come, but I appreciate the cover story," you said. 

"It was no story. Your prior obligation was being elsewhere in consideration of your own mental health." 

The woman with them tried to a hide a dazzling smile behind her flute of synthehol champagne—no real alcohol was allowed on board with a warp so close at hand—but she did not do so well enough to avoid catching your eye. "Sorry. You just don't see Vulcans covering for their bosses very often. I'm Lieutenant Nyota Urhura, by the way. Communications officer. You and your staff did a fantastic job with this ship." 

"Thank you." 

Being inside the ship afforded you an entirely different view than your blueprints and designs ever could. Without a doubt, this new _Enterprise_ was the closest thing to a work of art you'd ever been a part of. Mixing the _Freedom_ -class starship with enough of a _Constitution_ -class to remain familiar to its crew, all stuffed into the newest _Excelsior_ -class framework made it entirely unique. No one was about to dub the new design an _Enterprise_ -class considering just how unfeasible mass production would be, but you were proud of her nonetheless. You doubted anyone would notice how outdated the stereo was unless they were informed of its age by the crew. 

"I take it this your son." 

Spock's voice drew you from your admiration, reminding you that you were not here to bask in a job well done, but to make some much-needed amends. Emmett stood behind you just as quiet as always. Normally he was so outgoing...then again, he was outgoing among the Utopia Planitia staff that had watched him grow up, not among a group of people that thought they already knew him because he looked familiar—or maybe he was being so shy because of Lieutenant Urhura. This was _not_ a comforting thought for a mother that had given birth to him not much older than he was now. 

"Yes," you said. Gently, you took Emmett's wrist and pulled him forward. "This is Emmett _Tiberius_ [L Name]. Emmett, this is Mr. Spock and Lieutenant Urhura." 

"Good to meet you," Spock flashed him the Vulcan salute, then added, "If you have half the mind your mother does, I expect we'll be seeing great things of you." 

"Oh. I don't know about that," Emmett said. His blush climbed to his ears. 

"He's twice as smart as I am," you put in proudly. 

"Perhaps more. I've seen his papers. Certainly he is the most logical of the family," said Tanir. 

Lieutenant Urhura couldn't take her eyes off your son. "Did you say Tiberius?" 

"Yes. Speaking of, I really hoped to speak with Jim—I mean, Captain Kirk—before he left. Is he around anywhere?" you asked. 

"Last I checked, he was in his quarters. I could call him up on coms if you'd like." 

"It is odd for the Captain not to be on a time for a social engagement," said Spock, "but he has been uncharacteristically closed off for the past few months. Do you suppose he decided to take the vice admiral position after all?" 

"No, Spock. Let me talk to him. I've got a pretty good idea why he's been hiding so much lately. It was a pleasure to meet you, Commander, Emmett." 

You bid her farewell before she strode off to her communications desk. Spock followed her. Your heart hammered in your chest. Was Lieutenant Urhura right? Could Jim be closing off from his friends and coworkers because of _you_? Or were you just assuming the universe revolved around you as you always had? Some pathetic sun _you_ were. 

"Mom," Emmett whispered. He looked stricken. "What if he doesn't come?" 

How could you even begin to answer that? If Jim didn't come, it would be a long time before he got back into communication range again— _if_ he would be willing to communicate with either of you at all. And if Jim never spoke to Emmett, never got to know the son you'd kept from him, it would be all your fault. _You_ had kept Emmett's existence a secret all these years. _You_ had forbidden Jim from speaking to him when he found out. _You_ had chosen to not tell Emmett the truth until the _Enterprise_ was nearly ready to leave. 

"If indeed Captain Kirk has become so upset by your mother's actions as to turn into a recluse, it is highly unlikely that he will make an appearance after being informed that she is here," Tanir said. 

Emmett blanched; you glared at Tanir, though this had its usual lack of any effect. Before you could open your mouth to ask him to kindly keep such observations to himself, he went on in that same level voice: 

"However, if the reason he is upset with her is because she has forbidden him to know you, there is no reason to assume that he will not come when he finds that _you_ are here. Captain Kirk is not above bending rules he finds burdensome, and such a rule seems like it has become quite a burden." 

Your son relaxed a little. As much as you appreciated Tanir's attempt to cheer Emmett up, you thought it would be best if you got the two of them away from each other sooner rather than later. Tanir could just as easily dash hopes as raise them, and his reasoning would be perfectly sound either way. The way Emmett looked up to Tanir would only exacerbate the former's feelings. 

"Here, Emmett, let's find you something to eat," you said, as one of the servers carrying a tray of some Orion delicacy passed. Emmett _loved_ trying new food...or he did, when he wasn't so upset with the world at large. 

"I'm not hungry," he said stiffly. 

"Don't be silly. You haven't eaten all day. You're a growing boy." 

" _Mom_. Don't—" 

Whatever he wanted to tell you, Emmett broke off without finishing. His blue eyes froze on something behind you. Tanir's gaze followed his until it, too, came to a halt. Slowly, you turned around to see what they were looking at. 

Jim himself stepped out of the turbolift. The high color in his cheeks indicated that he had run from his shipboard quarters to the lift and still hadn't quite caught his breath yet. His hair, on the other hand, had been immaculately combed, his uniform pressed, his boots polished to a high shine. All that remained perfectly in place. Your stomach turned over, but it wasn't from having too much to drink this time. You hadn't seen each other, hadn't spoken a single word, since that terrible fight a month before. What was he going to say when he found you standing on his bridge, bold as brass? What was he going to _do_? 

Worrying about that turned out to be unnecessary. With Emmett standing just a little off from the captain's chair in the center of the room, it didn't take much searching for Jim to spot him. Their eyes locked and remained riveted on each other so thoroughly that you might as well have turned invisible. You didn't mind (being invisible to Jim was probably preferable to the alternative), except that neither of the men seemed capable of breaking the silence between them, and crew and party-goers alike were starting to stare. 

"Perhaps you ought to say something," Tanir suggest in an undertone. 

An excellent idea, but it was already too late. The quiet grew so unbearable that one of Jim's crew apparently felt it his duty to break the ice himself: A young white man with curly brown hair and a yellow uniform jumped up from where he sat at the helm to shout, "Captain on the bridge!" in a thick Russian accent. 

His words did the trick. Jim thawed enough to notice just how many people in the room were watching him with great interest. For once, he looked a little abashed at the attention, though perhaps it was only your memories that made his smile appear so sheepish. 

"Thank you, Ensign Chekov!" he called, and several people in the room tittered. 

"Happy to help, Captain," Chekov said cheerfully, then plopped himself down next to a Japanese man who had a little girl sitting in his lap. 

Jim waited for most of the onlookers to return to their previous conversations before he took a breath so deep you could see him taking it from several feet away, then seemed to _force_ himself to cross the remaining distance to your trio. 

"Hey," he said, once he was in speaking range. 

Hey. _Hey_? Thirteen years, a guilt trip the size of a gormagander, a thirty-three day-long cold shoulder, and the most Jim could manage to say to his son was _hey_? You couldn't help the disbelieving snort you let out, unfortunately. It caused Jim to snap out of his daze long enough to notice you standing there next to Emmett. 

"What are _you_ doing here?" he asked, but his tone was not the same as it had been upon your first reunion. It was softer somehow, maybe even curious. 

Nonetheless, your instinct was to rail against him. He might have been captain of this starship, but you were that ship's architect. Who cared that he outranked you in Star Fleet hierarchy? Seeing Emmett watching you with glistening eyes reminded you that you had not come to this party to have another big blowout with his father. You took a deep breath before planting your feet more solidly onto the floor. 

"I came to say I'm sorry," you said. 

"You..." 

"I really surprised you with that one, did I?" No, that tone would not do. You tried again, this time with a more sincere tone: "I'm sorry, Jim. I'm sorry that I lied to you about Emmett, and I'm sorry I kept you from him all these years. I'm even more sorry that I told you you couldn't talk to him now. And I'm sorry to you, too, Emmett. I should have told you about your father a long time ago." 

Jim looked thunderstruck. Emmett looked nearly just as surprised. 

" _Four_ accurate statements in a row. A new record," Tanir said. 

"Thank you, Mr. Tanir," you and Jim said in unison. 

To your surprise, Emmett laughed. He cleared his throat when he caught the two of you goggling at him. "Hey. It's...it's _really_ good to meet you—er, Captain?" 

"I think it would be okay if you called me 'Dad.'" 

The grin on your son's face could have lit up an entire solar system. "It's really good to meet you, Dad." 

"Likewise, Emmett." 

Oh, no. There came the waterworks. Seeing your two boys like that, standing face to face, made your eyes mist up. It was a good thing that neither of them seemed in a hurry to do _more_ than stand there face to face, or you might have missed something important while you tried without success to find something to wipe your eyes with. 

"I believe in situations such as these, a hug would be the next appropriate course of action," Tanir suggested. 

"Don't be a voyeur," you said. 

"It is being a voyeur now to suggest humans partake in a typical familial action in front of me?" 

"They just met. Don't rush things." 

Unfortunately, while this hushed exchanged took place, Emmett and Jim did awkwardly embrace. By the time you realized it was happening, both men had sprung apart. 

"That was a little weird...right?" asked Jim. 

Emmett nodded. "Weird, yeah." 

"Maybe it would be less weird if you two got to talk a little bit by yourself," you said. 

A sharp intake of breath from Emmett's direction indicated he knew what you were suggesting. For the first time in his young life, you were about to leave him _alone_. No Tanir to fall back on. Just him and a strange man wearing his face. But you had had Emmett for nearly thirteen years now. You owed Jim much more time than that he would be able to eke out before the _Enterprise_ left again on its five-year mission. 

"Wait a minute," said Jim. "You mean by ourselves without _you_?" 

"I trust you, Jim." 

" _That's_ new." 

Maybe it was. Jim hadn't ever given you a lot of reasons to trust him growing up. Other people's belongings—other people's hearts—were never something he'd been careful about. The point remained that Jim Kirk had changed. He'd grown up just as your son had in the years since you'd left, probably a lot more than you had yourself. Your decision to leave with Emmett might have been the right one, but the many decisions until then refusing to let either Emmett or Jim know the other existed was not. 

"Hey," Emmett said, "I'm not a kid. It's not like either one of you has to look after me." 

"Nice try. You think I don't remember what it was like to be a thirteen-year-old boy?" 

"Welcome to having a father, Emm. I never experienced the boy part, but he sure did," you said. 

Slowly, Jim shook his head. "No. I don't think it's going to be enough." 

"What?" 

"An hour today isn't going to be enough. I've missed so much. I can't let you just walk off the ship out and out of my life again—" 

"Jim!" 

"—so I'll do you one better. How would you like to stay on the _Enterprise_ with me for a little while?" 

Emmett's mouth fell open. "Stay with _you_? _Here_?" 

"I don't know about him staying with you _that_ long," you said. Jim rolled his eyes, so you cut him off quickly, "Your mission is going to last a really long time. What about school? What about being around other children?" 

"It's not as though we never have _any_ children on board. Just a little while ago, a whole group of them nearly took over my ship with the help of a Force Ghost. And anyway, we have to stop at starbases for supplies. He could leave at one of those, easy." 

" _Easy_? You expect a thirteen-year-old boy to get all the way back to Mars on his own?" 

"Of course not! I expect that his mother will be able to help him get back to Mars when she decides she's had enough of living on a starship herself." 

For what seemed like enough time for the _Enterprise_ to get all the way back to Earth at impulse speed, you could think of no way to answer Jim's suggestion. Your mouth opened; it was just that _nothing_ came out of it. A million different thoughts flew through your mind, none for long enough for you to grasp. Was this a test? Was Jim playing some cruel trick on you? Or were you overthinking what he had intended to be a joke? 

"[Name]? You still with us?" he asked, with that same familiar tap on your forehead. 

"Yes. I'm sorry. This is just...quite a shock. You don't want _me_ out there with you." 

"Sure I do." He eyed Emmett speculatively, then stepped right up to you—so close that you could smell his cologne, so close that you could have kissed him right there without giving him time to move away. Not that you considered doing that. "You were right about one thing: I don't know the first thing about being a father. If Emmett's going to stay, I _need_ you here." 

What was it about the way he spoke that made your knees go weak? You were a grown woman, a commander in your own right, a major figure at Utopia Planitia, and still all it took was for this _one_ man to say he needed you? Disgusting...and yet his offer was tempting. Emmett _should_ stay, but you didn't think you were quite ready for him to be light years away from you for months (perhaps years) at a time. 

"A lovely sentiment, Captain. However, I think you are overlooking an important detail. The _Enterprise_ , even in its updated condition, is not setup to accommodate families," Tanir said. 

Jim waved his concern (and eavesdropping) away. "We'll figure something out. You both can stay in my quarters for all I care." 

" _Please_ , Mom!" Emmett said. It had been so long that he spoke to you without anger that that was nearly enough to convince you. Almost. 

"I'm expected back to work as soon as I can find a shuttle to take me there," you hedged. 

"Mr. Tanir can look after things for a while, can't he?" asked Jim. "And Mr. Scott can always use an extra hand in Engineering. We won't have you sitting around all day every day." 

"Emmett has to get back to his regular classes." 

"Oh, come on! You really think that his teacher will refuse to give him any credit if he's with _me_?" 

"Yeah, Mom! Mrs. Onaira won't mind if I'm on the _Enterprise_! Especially if I'm with both of you." 

Forget the combined pressure of two Vulcans. How could you ever possibly say no to Jim _and_ Emmett when they joined forces like that? You turned helplessly to Tanir, who only gazed, as always, placidly back. He hadn't rejected the chance to go back to Utopia Planitia in your stead, you noticed. There was no question that he'd would do a fine job... 

Something warm on your hands forced your attention back to Jim. He had taken them in his own, causing your heart to leap all the way into your throat. You couldn't breathe. This sensation only increased when he leaned in and very gently pressed his forehead against yours. Until that very moment, you had forgotten how comforting that gesture on his part was. No way would you decline his offer after that, but he added: 

"I wasn't what you needed me to be then. But I've grown up. Now I'm ready to leave Iowa and I'm ready to go with you. Just give me a chance to show that to you. Or at least a chance to get to know you _and_ my son. I won't keep you here if you decide to go." 

"Okay." Your voice cracked around a sob you hadn't noticed had been lurking in your throat. So surprised were you to find yourself crying that you couldn't help laughing. "Okay, you win. You both win. I have a feeling that's going to happen a lot from here on out." 

"I'm counting on it," said Jim, while Emmett cheered. 

Throughout this ordeal, you hadn't quite forgotten how many people were around you. You tried to back away from Jim before more of his crew could find you together. Before you could take so much as a single step away, he leaned down and kissed you on the mouth, hard enough to bring all those Milky Way stars right back into view. It was over as soon as it started, but for good reason. As your mind finally caught up with reality, Jim grabbed Emmett's arm and pulled him into a hug with you. You pulled Tanir in not long after. There, tangled up in the limbs of every person you truly cared about, you realized just how much you'd missed over the past twelve years, and just how much you had to gain in all the years to come.


End file.
